Page 1 of The Briar Bargain
Chapter One
By breakfast, Elizabeth had already rehearsed her farewell speech, re-packed her trunk, and imagined Miss Bingley's delighted expression no fewer than five times.
The sun had finally returned to the sky. Mr. Bingley’s carriage was scheduled to be ready by noon, and Jane was sitting up in bed having breakfast, her complexion restored to something recognisably healthy. She had even joined the company after dinner last night.
All signs pointed to a clean escape.
What remained was for Elizabeth to endure one final breakfast with the Netherfield party without flinging herself—or anyone else—through a window, no matter how sorely she was tempted.
As she made her way to the breakfast room, a distant rumble of thunder caught her attention. Glancing back at the window, she saw dark clouds gathering on the horizon. Hopefully she and Jane would already be home before they arrived.
The men stood as Elizabeth entered, then sat again at her polite nod.
Miss Bingley looked up from her tea. "Miss Elizabeth," she said sweetly, "how lovely to see you joining us so early. I confess I expected you to lingerupstairs a bit longer. I understand it takes time to collect oneself after a week of such devoted bedside duty."
Never had “devoted duty” sounded so much like an accusation.
In fact, Elizabethwasexhausted, but she would never allow it to show. "Indeed. Though as welcoming as you have been, Miss Bingley, I shall be pleased to return home."
Mr. Bingley looked up from his toast. "Are you certain the bridge is safe?"
Elizabeth nodded. Mrs. Nicholls had spoken to the coachman that morning and relayed the news. "Evidently the river has risen, but not high enough to impede our passage."
Mr. Bingley beamed. "Splendid. Though I shall be very sorry to lose your company, of course."
"You are too kind, sir."
At the far end of the table, Mr. Hurst grunted without bothering to look up from his heaping plate of eggs and ham. He shovelled another forkful into his mouth, chewing with such concentrated effort one might think he was engaged in labour rather than leisure.
Mrs. Hurst idly adjusted the lace at her wrist. "I must say, Miss Eliza, your fortitude in the face of such trying circumstances has been remarkable. Not many young ladies would venture out in such dirty weather, much less remain for days on end to tend a sick relation."
"When one's sister is ill, Mrs. Hurst, my own comfort becomes a secondary concern," Elizabeth replied pleasantly. “I am sure it is the same for you and Miss Bingley.”
"Yes, of course," Mrs. Hurst said with a wave of her hand. "Dedication to family is everything admirable. Though I confess I would have dispatched a servant rather than risk my health and appearance."
Miss Bingley buttered her toast with what Elizabeth thought was more force than necessary. "I do hope your sister has recovered enough to endure such a journey. But then, I suppose country girls are accustomed to such inconveniences."
"Jane is much improved, and she has never been inclined to complain." If Elizabeth leaned on the word “she” just a tiny bit more than was usual, she could not be blamed for it.
"That is just what I would have suspected of her," Mr. Bingley said cheerfully.
Miss Bingley's nostrils flared slightly, reminding Elizabeth of a horse. "Indeed.”
There was a rustling at the far end of the table as Mr. Darcy shook out his newspaper, the quick view of his expression before the paper rose to hide it proving him to be as indecipherable as ever. His posture even at the breakfast table was almost painfully correct.
Elizabeth tried not to stare at him. It was a habit she had recently acquired because he always seemed to be staring at her, and she always wanted to catch him at it. She only occasionally did, though, and had tried to remind herself to watch him out of the corner of her eye.
Mr. Darcy's presence at Netherfield had been a constant source of discomfort. Not because he was unpleasant, precisely. It was only that one moment he seemed almost approachable, the next he was as distant as the cat who prowled the halls. Unmovable, inscrutable, judgemental.
It was a shame, really. He was a handsome man and rather clever. But he was also haughty in the worst sense, and Elizabeth would never forget how his disdain had been shot at her before they had even been introduced.Not handsome enough to tempt him, he had said while looking directly at her.
She had understood his purpose at once. He had been warning her against harbouring any hopes where he was concerned, as if she had formed some sort of design on the man the moment he stepped into the assembly.
Her mother had, perhaps, but then, every mother in attendance with unmarried daughters had likely done the same. That was not her fault.
"Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said with a bright smile. "Have you heard from your sister of late? I long to know how dear Georgiana progresses with that delightful new sonata."
He turned the page of his paper without looking up. "I wrote to her only a few days past, Miss Bingley, and have not yet received a reply. In her last letter, Georgiana wrote that she practises daily."
